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Well, it’d been about ten, and she still had no need for the man. In fact, the sight of him turned her stomach.
The sound of her stage name from his lips did nothing to help his cause, whatever it was. “Mark,” she said, putting years of acting skill to use.
“God, it’s good to see you, beautiful.” He hugged her and she returned the embrace, trying hard not to stiffen in his arms. “Love this new look. It’s so mountain chic.”
Lord, she barely resisted rolling her eyes.
“You’re looking well, Mark.” She stepped back, putting a few feet between them as soon as he released her.
He laughed. “Banal platitudes, Scarlett? Is that where we are now? After everything?” He tilted his head. The wool peacoat he wore along with his Burberry scarf gave him a sophisticated, polished appearance, as always. His clean-shaven face had a rosy hue to it, no doubt from the cold, and his short blond hair hid beneath a black winter hat. That had to be grating on him like nothing else. The man was a psycho when it came to his hair. He also despised the cold. Anything under seventy degrees, and he was ready to fly further south.
Mickie had come a long way in her metamorphosis but wasn’t a good enough person to not take some pleasure in his discomfort.
“Well, I asked to be left alone, and you did not respect my wishes.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure what kind of greeting you expected.”
He laughed again. This time his head fell back, and the haughty sound carried through the quiet park. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, Scarlett.”
She ground her teeth. “I’d prefer you call me Michaela.” Not Mickie. The nickname was reserved for friends and friends alone.
He scoffed. “I can’t do that. Michaela is nobody special. Scarlett is a star. My star.”
She raised an eyebrow in a classic Scarlett stare down. “How did you find me?”
The grin that curved his mouth didn’t help her unease a single bit. “I didn’t. I was contacted by a man named Chuck. Guess my name is still listed on your official website as your manager.”
Her website. Hell, she hadn’t looked at that in a year. Who knew it was still active? “How much did you pay him for information on me?”
“Not a dime.” He stepped closer and gripped her upper arms. Eyes sparkling with greed, his grin grew. “I have it. The role of your life. Oscar-worthy for sure. Scarlett, they’re offering fifty million right out the gate.”
“I’m not interested,” she said in a flat voice, as his fingertips abraded her skin through the layers of warm clothing.
He shook his head. “You say that now, but once you hear what it is, I promise you, you will not be able to turn it down. I’d bet my life on it.”
As she tilted her head, she studied him for a moment, then said, “I don’t care what it is. I’m not interested. This isn’t a game, Mark. I’m happy here.”
The automatic response popped out, but she realized how much she meant it. She had no interest in anything this man had to say. He’d pushed her for so many years. One film after another, shoving drugs her way when she’d been tired, stressed, overworked. Thinking her manager would have had her best interest at heart, she’d indulged again and again. Before long, she’d fallen down a rabbit hole so deep, it’d taken a full escape from that life to climb out. Not that she blamed him for her addiction. That responsibility lay squarely on her shoulders, but he certainly hadn’t done anything to help her as she’d spiraled out of control. As long as the money kept rolling in, he didn’t give a shit how unhappy she was.
“You only say that because you know you won’t be able to resist. Come on, Scarlett. You know you’re curious.”
If she were a different person, she’d knock the self-satisfied smirk right off his surgically enhanced face.
“Fine,” she said with a huff. “Tell me what it is. But take your hands off me and three steps back first.” Anything to get him to leave faster.
With a nod, he lifted his arms and stepped away. “So prudish now,” he said with a wink. “Would never have expected that from you.”
She didn’t bother to take the bait. Instead, she folded her arms, tapped a foot, and waited in silence.
With a snort, Mark adjusted his hat. “It’s Princess Carmella.”
His smug expression grew as he dropped his little bomb then fell silent. No doubt, he assumed she’d jump for joy and hop on the first plane back to Hollywood.
To his everlasting disappointment, all she said was, “Not interested. I think this is the third time I’ve said it. Now do you believe me?”
Though she kept a mask of disinterest on her face, inside, she was performing mental backflips. She’d done it. Passed the test. If there was any role to draw her back to the limelight, it’d be Princess Carmella and she could say with complete certainty she didn’t want it. God, she felt giddy with excitement and a sudden burning need to see Keith.
